


100 Kinks Challenge #62 - comfort sex

by winchestersinthedrift



Series: 100 Kinks Challenge [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestersinthedrift/pseuds/winchestersinthedrift





	100 Kinks Challenge #62 - comfort sex

They haven’t fucked since before the hospital, before the 18-wheeler, before Dean’s body lost hold of him for awhile, before dad died to put him back inside it.

Sam’s kind of tried, a couple of times, has looked at Dean across the room and his gaze has sat on Dean’s skin in a particular kind of way. It’s not that Dean hasn’t wanted it. But part of him can’t bear to bring _that_ , what he and Sam do under motel sheets, into this endless awful today. Sam shouldn’t touch him when he’s this fucked up. He’s half-mad with compulsive instinct to keep that far away and safe from whatever might happen now, keep it safe as a heady blood-bright memory.

Tonight, though, he can’t. He’s on the bed in his boxers, just come out of the shower, and Sam’s squished tight in the chair by the little tv-side table, flipping through a takeout menu. He’s all folded in on himself, arms hunched into his chest. The way he used to look just before Stanford.

‘What do you think,’ Sam says, a little flatly. ‘Pizza?’ 

Dean takes a deep silent breath.

‘Sam,’ he says, and then quick, before he can think too much, ‘I wanna - can you kiss me.’ He says it just like that, no upward inflection, like the phrase loses its buoyancy as it leaves his mouth. Everything’s too heavy these days.

Sam looks up and blinks.

‘We don’t have to Dean,’ he says, dull and tired. ‘It’s ok.’

Dean wrestles annoyance and grief and the tears burning his sinuses, making his voice thick.

‘I _want_ to,’ he says, not quite looking at Sam but glancing sideways in his direction. His knuckles tighten and he wets his lips. ‘Real bad.’

Sam’s still looking at him and there’s a long second where neither of them moves. Then Sam gets up and drops his book and crosses to the bed, all in a single movement, and he falls over Dean, in between his legs so their torsos are mostly matched up. Usually Sam would strip off Dean’s shirt and go wet and hungry for his nipples, or run his big hands down Dean’s back and tuck them tight under his ass while they grind against each other. This time he brings his hands right up to Dean’s head and pulls it to fit just under his jaw, so Dean’s breathing thick and warm into the hollow of Sam’s throat and Sam’s hands are cradling his whole head, Sam’s little fingers curled round the back of his neck. Dean’s panting hard and scrabbling between their bodies, unzipping Sam’s jeans and pushing both their shorts down over their thighs.

Their cocks brush against each other, rubbing slick and hard, and Sam grabs Dean’s hair tighter, gets him into a sort of headlock so that Dean can hardly move at all, just squirm and buck his hips. Sam’s elbow is braced into the mattress beside Dean’s head and Sam says 

‘sssh shhh let me’ and then he’s doing, he’s doing this thing where he’s hardly moving at all, his movements are short, close and forceful, rolling his ass so that his cock lines up exactly beside Dean’s and grinds in just, in exactly the hard hurting ache-raw places Dean needs it, and he’s breathing hard and punchy with his thrusts, _dean dean dean dean_

and Dean comes hard and sobbing, held tight in the frame of Sam’s body.


End file.
